The Letdown: Breastfeeding Reality vs. Expectations (a poem)

Oh, breastfeeding, the joy it brings. It makes me feel so (literally) full and makes my heart sing. When they placed you on my chest the very first time, We locked eyes and I was excited to call you mine.

The nurse smiled showed me how to get you to latch, and just like that, you jumped on for a quick little snack.

I thought to myself, "this is easy," as a stranger shoved my boob into your mouth. And quite honestly, that’s when everything went South.

Who knew breastfeeding could be so beautiful and so tough at the same time, and that the concept of beauty and pain would hold such a tight line. 

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The football hold, the cross body, my God, what does it all mean? How come when you nurse I can actually feel it in my spleen? *Ouch =(

My milk came in last night, oh joy! you would think? Except now both my breasts feel like cement blocks heavy enough for a ship to sink. Why is one boob soooo much bigger than the other? And why did this look so easy to all the other mothers? (But, seriously, why?)

I love the contractions that come along with each session, and how we're supposed to consider this a blessing. 

Seriously?

It feels like a million tiny bee stings when you first latch on, it makes me curl my toes and wince in pain until the milk is all gone. 

What’s this machine supposed to do? Oh, I have to pump as well in order to sustain you? 

What the fuck is a phalange and why are there so many parts? Surely I can figure this out, I mean, I used to be smart.

I’ve soaked through all my shirts and now always smell like sour milk. Forget wearing anything fancy, I’ve thrown away all my blouses make of silk. 

(Wait, I’m supposed to wash my nursing bras? Who wrote these breastfeeding laws?) 

I now understand why they call it a let down, truer words could not be spoken, With these lopsided boobs and sore body, I could not feel more broken (even though you’re worth it all and more, I'm just little tired of feeling so sore).

These cluster feedings have it feeling more like a cluster fuck, and I wish someone would have told me, "Hey, mama, a lot of this is just plain luck!"  My body won’t stop sweating and I’m expected in public to cover up? You have to be joking, I mean what in the actual fuck! 

This newborn phase will come and go, but my breasts will now remain saggy forever. Is it too late for formula and why did I say, never? 

I adore you, little person, that much is true. But I’d like to have my body back, it’s nothing personal against you. 

Remember that each time you’re on teet, how much I do love you, But also remember these were my boobs first, and you’ll be asked to vacate soon.